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Counting Down
School CA examination, recreation of "Suicide" by Mark R. Slaughter. I got a B check for this. We had to make the two pieces link, so this and Poppies are quite unsetting. Counting Down This clock, ticking above my head, resounding the echoes of a harsh decision I am yet to make. I tap my fingers, a smile on my face, but inside? I am breaking, crumbling. I feel as though I am splitting in two, but for some reason I'm still wearing this mask, to conceal all my anger, all my pain, all the voices in my head. All the bad thoughts seem to be drowning when I'm drinking, or hurting my own flesh, but here, in a crowded room of people, I cannot drown my demons. I'm chased by them, at every corner. I'm starving to perfect my emptiness, and through this all I'm like a light in the means of I always fade away. This party is a dreadful bore, and I can't wait simply to leave. How many lies before I begin to seem alright? Another year, for tonight is New Year's Eve, to fret and frown. My life, I fear, is dissolving into a state of darkness, an incurable agony and suffering, taut with knots of anger. My life seems to be blackened, and I'm merely a shape in a hall of greats, ignored and simply behind the scenes, a back drop if you will. I dismiss myself, with evil intent, and enter my bathroom. The whiteness is amost blinding, but I bear it. A glint of blade catches my baggy eye - sparkling thoughts scatter themselves and suddenly I see mass of opporunity. Opportunity to end this, an eternity of undisturbed peace and quiet, of light shoulders, their weight lifted. Could I grasp the chance, or was I simply too shy? The metal winked at me, and glimmered the possibilty of ending a life that was enshrined in overwhelming strife. A woman had held my shield for me, as I fought these battles with myself. And a man had taught me wisdom through the static, I recall, but these lies are leading me astray. Though they'd been strong, even they had lost hope. I don't want to listen, because good men come in few, and I don't understand how people can handle this. When my body burns in ashes, I will only sing the truth - these lies are leading me astray and it's too much for me to stay... it goes on endlessly! The blade, loses its appeal. The cetalapram appears, and destiny of ending this seems to shower me. I grab my pen and paper from the cupboard and begin to write. I see you, so please stay strong. I'll sing you one last song and then I'm gone; I don't want to live this destiny... it goes on endlessly and it's leading me astray. I hope you'll understand why. And like that, I'm beginning to drift. I pop the pills. I'm beginning to feel woozy. This love, this hate, it's burning me away. I feel writhing, I feel dizzy, and I feel blackness. I stumble into the corner, and in this town, only few can see whats wrong... I'll be back where I belong soon. Even in our greatest moments, we may win or we may lose... and suddenly my world turns crystal white. And then blackness consumed me. ... I feel as though I'm floating up to heaven, and as I look down I see Asha crying on my mother's shoulder, I look up, into the sky as the gates of heaven open. Somethings wrong- is this destiny, or am I going home? Fear strikes me. What have I done? Category:Realistic fiction